


Erase My Scars

by SABATHco



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Profanity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 10:58:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7712323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SABATHco/pseuds/SABATHco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaaras Adaar, Kos, post Inquisition/pre Trespasser, profanity, adult themes. Kos decides to visit Skyhold, much to Kaaras' hatred. Family drama.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Erase My Scars

Erase My Scars  
  
 **Characters: Kaaras Adaar, Kos  
Post Inquisition (before Trespasser)   
Warning: contains adult themes, profanity, angst, mild violence **  
  
   The man was lucky that this had all happened after the defeat of Corypheus. If not, then the Inquisitor might not have been as easy on the man. Not that Kaaras was being easy on him. In fact, Kaaras had turned hostile at its finest (for Kaaras, that was).   
   It was rare to see the Herald of Andraste in such a state of rage. Something Kaaras would have never wished for people to see in him. But he was only, as they say, human. He had his off moments, Maker knew he could get in moods, and sometimes often no thanks to the pressure of being Inquisitor. But things had calmed down since the defeat of Corypheus. And now? One could certainly consider his behaviour brattish.   
   There was plenty that needed rebuilding. More refugees, of course. And there would always be crime in Thedas. That was a given. So, Kaaras spent most of his working hours just as he had prior to the defeat. There was still a lot of work to do. Corypheus had merely been the main threat at a certain point in time. That hardly meant Thedas didn’t need help in other areas. And for as long as Thedas would have him as Inquisitor, he would perform that duty.  
   So, to the point of being furious. It seemed like any day in Skyhold, and Kaaras had retired to his quarters for the evening. The Iron Bull had gone off with his Chargers for a mission out in Val Royeaux, which left Kaaras to himself for the last couple of days. The first letter had been quickly received, however, and he’d been in the process of writing back, quill in hand when there was a knock on his door.  
   As Inquisitor, even if he was off duty, he still tended to what he could, he simply could not leave men and women in distress if the time came. So he allowed whoever it was in, and raised his head from the letter he’d been writing.  
  
   “Your Worship, there is a qunari here to see you,” the scout said. “Says he knows you.”   
  
   The last time an unnamed qunari had come to him, he found out that he had an older brother… Talan was still roaming the fortress, though he did go off on his own a lot of the time. ‘Adventuring’, the Tal-Vashoth would tell him. However, it could also be someone from his former mercenary band, the Valo-Kas.   
   “Did they give you a name?” he asked, but the man shook his head. “And you did not ask, I assume?” The man shook his head once more, a more apologetic expression across his face. He mentally sighed, but did not get upset over it. Whoever it was, he was sure it wouldn’t be the end of the world. And he was certain it was no Qunari from Par Vollen. Now now. He never expected to hear back from them since what happened on the Storm Coast.   
   “Alright, send them up.” When the scout left, he moved the letter to Bull aside. He did not need some qunari poking their nose in business that was not theirs. What were his private affairs were exactly that: private.   
   As he waited, he brushed the collar of his tunic lightly, removing a little bit of dust from it before his head rose once more. His face paled, if it could pale any more than his light grey complexion, when he saw who made it up the stairs.   
   Within an instant, the Vashoth felt his heart skip a beat, and his stomach churn, boiling blood throbbing through his veins. How dare he? How _dare_ he come into Skyhold without announcing himself!? Of course he didn’t announce himself… if he had, Kaaras probably (definitely) would have refused to see him! He was already tempted to merely scream at him and throw a number of swears in his direction.  
   Rising from his seat, he put his hands to his desk before they fell to his side. “What do you want?” he asked, voice dark and dripping detest. The last time he had seen Kos, he had smacked a fist right into his face. He’d deserved it.   
  
   Kos was not expecting anything less than hostility from the mage. After their last meeting, he’d held a steak to his face for a good three days until the piece of meat become putrid. The bruise to his eye was bad, though. Despite the younger man being short, he could definitely pack a punch.  
   Alas, bad blood was not what he wanted between any of the man’s family. He liked Aban, and in turn, had to make friends with her son, and then the Tal-Vashoth half brother. A good discussion (and a scolding later from the woman), he had listened to try and understand where Kaaras was coming from. But he still thought the man was being highly unreasonable with his actions.   
   So his father was dead. A sad loss, yes, he was sure. But it was years ago. A good nearing twenty years ago. He should have moved on like anyone else would have. The man thought it was childish, but Aban had insisted that he drop it and let Kaaras deal in the only way he knew. Being a moody brat at the age of thirty.  
   She was not aware that he was here. He told her that he was travelling for work purposes.   
“Well, I think you and I got off on a bad foot, Kaaras,” he stated. His voice was not soft, was not even compassionate. No, he didn’t want a fight to happen, but he was also not going to be treated like shit, which Kaaras had done the last time they had met.   
  
   “It is _Inquisitor Adaar_ ,” Kaaras corrected, seeing the small twitch of the man’s lips and nose, as if he were about to say something back. Kos clearly thought better, and Kaaras tucked his hands behind his back as he stepped out before his desk. He may have been short, but there was discipline and leadership written all over him. Now, this was his turf.   
  
   Kos bit his tongue. Yes… so it was. If he had any idea that Aban’s son was the fucking Inquisitor… Well, he probably still would have stayed with her, and he still was. But it did make him feel… threatened. Kaaras wasn’t just a _saarebas_ , he was one of the most powerful men in Thedas right now. He could have him killed with a click of his fingers. However, he clearly seemed to love his mother a lot, and he doubted it would get that far.   
   “Well, _Inquisitor Adaar_ , what do you say we shake hands and make up like grownups?” he offered, extending his hand for a shake. He was Tal-Vashoth long enough to understand the concept of a handshake, and Kaaras was Vashoth, and had grown up around humans—and was the Inquisitor. It was no hard guess that they both understood what the gesture meant.   
  
   Vermillion eyes lowered to the hand, but they soon travelled back up to the other man’s. “Does she know you are here?” he asked, voice still short, professional, and blunt.   
  
   The older qunari wet his lips with his tongue before his shook his head. “No.”  
  
   “Oh, perfect. You’re a liar, too,” Kaaras smiled, sarcasm heavy in his voice as his arms fell back down. “I wonder what else you’re lying to her about, hm?”   
  
   “If she knew, then I wouldn’t be here. You know your mother-,”  
  
   “Do _not_ act like you know her better than I do,” the Inquisitor snapped. “How long have you been sniveling around her? A few months? Piss off.” He turned his back and walked back to his seat, sitting down and pulling one of the reports over as if he was simply going to ignore Kos’ presence in his quarters.  
  
   “Brat…” muttered the warrior. He regretted it. The look Kaaras gave him was like glaring daggers.   
  
   “You wish for another black eye… call me a brat again.” Kaaras’ voice was alarmingly cool. His ears pricked back, but his eyes lowered once more. How dare he? How _dare_ he come into _his_ fortress and call _him_ names? He should have just backhanded him then and there, and thrown him out. He was _so_ angry, so angry that he felt paralysed and like he couldn’t actually do anything. The only reason why his arse was still on his seat.   
  
   Kos shook his head and laughed, looking around the room. “So, what? You have your fancy castle, and your walls, and your pretty clothes, and you think you are better than everyone else? I know people like you, I lived around them enough in Par Vollen. Always wanting control. You want to be so much different than them, and yet you’re just like them.”   
  
   Ice spiraled up the Inquisitor’s arms as his hands clenched. His blood boiled. His whole life, he had been nothing. A simple no one, a poor kid living off slosh and having absolutely nothing but his family and the roof over his head. And he never once complained about it! It was life!   
   Every sovereign went to the rams that they took care of, and every now and again they got rewarded because one of them made a good coat during the season. Because one of them gave birth and they had an extra in the flock.   
   He worked his arse off as a farmer, with no shoes, with hardly any clothes. He shared everything with his little sister, and often went without food so she had more. They were lucky that they had a fresh water source no thanks to the forest on the border of their land. Kaaras didn’t even know if they _owned_ that land! Or if they were simply squatting and no one cared enough to say anything because they were savage qunari who would kill and flay them.   
   It was because of him that his mother still had a roof over her heard, while he travelled across the Waking Sea and spent every amount of energy trying to gather enough coin for her and him to make a living, not to mention Aith. And if it weren’t for him being a mercenary, he would have never been at the Conclave, and he never would have become the Inquisitor.   
   So how dare he stand there, before him, in his own fortress and call him a brat, and furthermore insult him by saying he was just like the Qunari up North.   
   For years, he had tried to prove that his species was not all like the Qunari up there, that they were not all rogue Tal-Vashoth that slaughtered innocent people and took over villages and camps. For _years_ he had been the best person he could be, and now, all of that hard work was being thrown back in his face? He was not about to stand for that.  
   Putting his hands back to the table, he pushed himself up. “Who are you to tell me what I am and what I am not? You know nothing of what my family and I have gone through. _Nothing!_. And you stand there and pretend that you do. I am warning you now, leave Skyhold, before I strangle you with my bare hands.”  
  
   He should have taken the threat as more serious. Kaaras was a powerful man, and the punch last time should have been enough for him to know that. He had not even seen the full force of his magic, but he could tell the air in the room had become far colder than before, and it wasn’t just because of the tense atmosphere between them.   
   Like most Qunari, Kos was brought up to fear mages, and he was certainly uneasy around the younger man knowing that he was a mage. But he was also just as stubborn as Kaaras. Maybe it was a qunari thing, like bashing heads constantly.  
   “I know enough to know that your mother would be disappointed in you if she knew you were being so gruff with me and bullying me.”  
  
   “Believe me, you have not seen _’gruff’_ ,” the mage commented. “I will not stand here idly by while you insult me. And before you think how disappointed my mother would be in me, remember who is the one lying to her and causing trouble where it needn’t be. I tolerate you because my mother sees something—Maker, I have no idea what it is—in you that I cannot. But that does not mean I approve of you, or like you. In fact, I _hate_ you. So much that it is taking every part of my self control not to toss you over the balcony or beat you to a bloody pulp. So consider yourself lucky, Kos.”  
  
   Hate? That was a strong word. And possibly thrown around like a child. Kos huffed. So, this was how it was going to be, then. “If you truly thought your mother deserved happiness, then you would not be so hung up on the past and a man long gone. You are the only one holding her back with a dead man.”   
  
   Kaaras felt his stomach tighten. “Don’t you _dare_ talk about my father,” he threatened, taking a step forward, his voice on the precipice of cracking.   
  
   “Look, I understand your family gets how sensitive you are over it, and so I will say what they are all thinking, but too afraid to say. Kaaras, you need to get over it. He is gone. And sulking about it like a kid ain’t going to make anything better.”  
  
   “ _Shut your mouth!_ ” Kaaras hissed, another step forward. His hands clenched tight. He did _not_ get to talk about his father in such a way. Kaaras was well aware of the fact that it had been years ago! He was well aware of the fact that he was hypersensitive to the topic. It was why he tried to just lock it away and never think about it.   
   He would _never_ forgive himself for what happened that night. For the loss of their home, and for the loss of a father and a loving husband. He knew very well that it caused a strain between his mother, between his sister, between a lot of his relationships. But it was what it was, and that was how people had to take it. If they could not accept that part of him, then they needed to move on, because Kaaras couldn’t.   
   “You do _not_ get to come into my Inquisition and talk to me like that. This is _my_ castle, and this is _my_ family you are fucking with. Open your damn mouth again, you bastard, and I will knock your bloody teeth out!”   
  
   Kos took a step back. He could press, but from the last time Kaaras had hit him, he knew when to back off. There was nothing but silence between them and cold air. So cold that frost started to appear from his mouth as he breathed—a little harder than normal, considering.   
   “Well… I came all this way… can I at least stay to catch some rest for my horse?” he asked. As if he deserved the care even after what he had said.   
  
   He had the balls to ask him if he could stay. That Kaaras should give him hospitality despite the fact that he just tried to run his feelings and intervene with his family matters? Kaaras felt like spitting on him. He did not, he had more dignity than that, but he felt like it.   
   Could Kaaras throw him out in the snow? Yes… yes he could. And the more they stood there in silence, and his thoughts repeated what the other qunari had said to him over and over again? Oh, yes, he wanted nothing more than for the man to suffer the cold outside.   
   “I should toss you out on your arse into the snow,” he hissed venomously, tucking his hands behind his back once more. “You deserve it.” Kos’ lips opened, and he put his hand swiftly up to stop him. “There might be a space in the barn. I hope you brought your own blankets. If I can survive that way as a boy, then I assume that you can, too, as the man you are.”   
  
   It was honestly the best offer he was going to get from Kaaras right now, even if it was an insult. He knew that much. He wouldn’t argue it. A barn was better than out in the cold snow, and he knew it. It took everything in him to not quip back, but he didn’t. And instead, he gave Kaaras nod of his head.  
   “Thank you, Inquisitor.”   
  
   Kaaras just glared at him, daggers still in his eyes. “Now get out before I change my mind.” He didn’t have to repeat himself, and the older qunari turned around and headed back down the stairs. When he heard the door close, Kaaras waited a moment, standing there in silence until he could no longer take the pent up frustration rammed a foot right into his desk, knocking it over and things flying everywhere. The clattering of ink and quills hit the floor and sheets of parchment fluttered across the room.  
   “ _Prick!_ ” he yelled, panting hard. His hands clenched, and he closed his eyes to try and calm himself down, crouching onto the floor and covering his face. He had not been so angry in… what seemed like forever! He didn’t know what to do with it. He wanted to punch a hole in the wall, but it was stone, and would end up breaking his own knuckles if he did so. And now… his desk was a mess.   
   The Herald huffed, looking up and running his hands down his face, a hand staying over his mouth as he looked at the chaos he’d created in his quarters. He was not worth it. Kos was not worth the struggle, the frustration and anger. And yet he infuriated him! Saying those horrible things like he knew his family better than him.  
   It stung. It stung deeply to his very core, and his heart felt heavy. He knew he should have moved on years ago. He knew he acted like a child when it happened, but that night was different for him than it was for anyone else. He was the reason! You couldn’t just get over something like that! It was a guilt he would carry for the rest of his life!   
   His breath was heavy, and his body shook with his anger and hurt. Was he overreacting? Yes. And he knew he was, but he couldn’t help it. There were many things Kaaras could turn a blind eye to and shrug off, there were many things he could step over and move on from. But this? It was not one of them. And the anger and hurt that welled up inside of him was overpowering and overwhelming. So much that he wanted to scream and lose control. But he couldn’t.   
   Swallowing heavily, he stood back up, and he took a deep breath, trying to gain control over himself again. He knew what it was like to panic, to feel strangled by it. He just had to breathe and he would be alright.   
   Picking his desk up, he looked at the stains on the floor from the now smashed ink pot. He only had himself to blame for it. He was a grown man and he could admit his mistakes. In a fit of anger, he’d made a terrible mess inside his quarters. A good distraction was to clean it all up and make it perfect once more. If he didn’t, it would frustrate him beyond belief.   
   He moved to the water basin that was on the bedside table, a little sponge inside it, and he got on his hands and knees and scrubbed the ink off the stone. If anything, it soothed his anger.  
  
*****   
   The Herald had had a restless sleep. Knowing that Kos was down in the barns was enough to unsettle him. By the time morning had come around, he was still flustered and angry. He looked at the ceiling, placing his hands onto his bare chest as he lay in bed, thoughts swimming.   
   Movement on the bed told him that Ginger was awake, the fluffy cat moving into view and brushing his long tail up Kaaras’ skin. The Inquisitor sighed, moving to his side and grabbing the cat so he could pull him up against his chest and give him a cuddle.  
   The bed was otherwise empty. He hated waking up to an empty bed. With Bull gone, he felt lonely again, and he hated that. He’d distract himself with work, but so many of his friends had started returning to their places of need. That was to be expected, he simply missed them. Writing just wasn’t the same. If Bull was here, his frustration level would be so much less. And if talking didn’t make it go away, getting severely fucked in the arse would.  
   He’d made so many friends since the Conclave, since he’d been named Inquisitor. It was hard with them all disappearing one by one. But he still cherished what he had. He had The Bull, who would return within a few more days, if not another week, he was sure of it.   
   “Good morning, you silly beast,” Kaaras murmured tiredly no thanks to his lack of sleep. He moved his hand over Ginger’s fluffy mane and gave him a scratch behind the ear, the cat purring deeply against him.   
   As his eyes looked at the cat, his hand stopped moving, seeing the flicker of the emerald ring on his finger. He frowned lightly, bringing his other hand up so he could tug the ring off and hold it up to take a look at it. This ring was the only thing left that he had to remember his father by.  
   He could no longer really remember his voice, and he hated that. He wanted so much to remember him, to keep him close in his heart. He felt guilty that it was blur in his ears, in his memory. He could not remember what it felt like to be hugged by him, to be scolded even by him because he’d scared his mother in some way or another.  
   His face contorted, between despair and absolute rage at himself. He leant up and pegged the ring across the room, it smacking into the wall. It was an instant regret, and Kaaras was already half way out of bed when he’d tossed it, sliding across the Great Bear rug before the fireplace to scramble and pick it back up.  
   “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he cried to himself, clutching the ring hard in his hand. He held it to his chest, rocking lightly back and forth on the backs of his legs. Ginger had popped down from the bed and laid down beside his leg, probably more interested in whatever had been tossed than his upset qunari.   
   No, he would not do this! He would not fall into this downward spiral! It was good for no one, especially himself. He’d been there, for years on end, desperate, hurting and lonely. Where did it get him? Nowhere. People died and he didn’t appreciate the time he had with them. His trainer. She died, and the last thing he’d said to her was some moody bullshit excuse! Even as she was dying, her eyes looked at him with that stern spiritual sense she always had. And he turned for the better. He understood. He understood that it would never go away if he let it linger. He’d never get over it if he let it consume him.   
   Swallowing heavily, he put a hand to his face, wiping a tiny tear streak away. He unfurled his fist and looked at the ring, running his finger over where it had hit the stone. It was alright, just a little scratch. The material was hardy that it was made with. He gave the stone a small kiss and put it back on his finger, nice and secure.   
   Letting his eyes close, he gathered himself. The truth was: his mother was fond of Kos. Who was he to deny her feelings? He was scared. Scared that she would forget him, that she was trying to replace an empty part of herself, like he had when he was younger, and so often drunk ale to fill his stomach and end up naked in a bed with some stranger he’d never meet again. He may never have given himself up, but he should have known better. It was just easier to try and forget.   
   His eyes opened again and he stood from the pelt he was on, giving a big exhale. Alright… time to be a grownup. But first… he’d need tea.   
  
*****  
   The barn had been… acceptable, Kos supposed. He’d had to suffer the smell of the stables, the mounts all below him, stomping their feet and farting all night. It could have been worse. He could have been trying to fend off the wolves in the snow or something.  
   When it was morning, Kos woke up early no thanks to the livestock doing so. That, and he felt a boot kick his side, which had him rolling over, about to throw some serious insults before he saw the man standing over him.  
   The warrior sat up, rubbing his face, and rubbing where the heavy boot had kicked him. It hadn’t been a very big kick, but it was enough to hurt a little. “Kaar—Inquisitor.” He wasn’t going to get used to that. He should have felt more threatened than he did as well, but… he did not. At least, Kaaras did not have the same look in his eye as he did yesterday, which was something. The kick was still enough to know that he was a guest here, and Kaaras was the one in power.   
   “You wanting me gone, I suppose?” he asked. “Should I send my regards to your mother when I return?” He was now simply just being courteous. All this arguing was simply exhausting, and he was over it.  It was far too early to have another one with the man.  
  
   Crouching down, Kaaras kept his height just that little bit taller. He was now dressed, a thick coat over his shoulders and a tunic beneath. “For my mother’s sake, I will house you for a few more days, so we can… talk. But if you do anything—and I mean anything to piss me off with that smart arse mouth of yours—I will kick my boot so far up your arse you will taste the leather from the cow it was taken from. Understood?”   
  
   Kos’ jaw went a little tight, but it soon loosened. He didn’t have much of a choice, and it was, technically, an offer. He was surprised, however, when he saw the Inquisitor’s hand being offered. His eyes looked at it, and he took it hesitantly.  
   “Alright, Inquisitor,” he nodded, “I will… behave. And I am sorry that we have gotten off on the wrong foot. I do hope in time that we can make things better.” Even if it was for the sake of Aban.  
  
   After the little shake of their hands, Kaaras stood back up, looking down at him. “There are guest quarters in Skyhold. I will set something up for you.” He turned on his heel, his coat bellowing behind him before he stopped and it hit up against the back of his legs.  
   Looking over his shoulder, Kaaras’ expression was blank. “And it’s Kaaras…” he murmured. There was no smile, there was no gentle look in his eyes, but his words said it all. Despite his stern nature, it was a step forward for the both of them. And for now, it was better than nothing. Kos would have to earn his respect. And that was going to be no easy feat.


End file.
